Hello. I am SO SORRY for the long wait, and the time it took to get this updated. I was completely stuck with this chapter, and just couldn't figure out how to continue. Anyways; I finished (*wipes sweat from brow*) so here you go :) enjoy xx
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John called sometime around three in the morning, either forgetting or simply ignoring the time change. Sherlock saw from the amount of missed calls on his phone that John had been attempting to reach him for some time.
He sighed and pressed the answer button. He knew that although telling John that Irene was pregnant might stun him momentarily, it would only end up fuelling his need to ask thousands of tedious questions. And that was something that Sherlock wanted very much to avoid. At least for the time being.
He sighed as he heard John's slightly irritated voice at the other end. John sounded almost worried.
"Hey Sherlock. Are you two okay?"
Sherlock raised his eyebrows. He had mentioned that he was going to New Zealand in his note, knowing that John would make the connection. He hadn't expected overwhelming concern for Irene though. He knew that John was still a little…scared of her.
"Yeah, fine" he answered, yawning slightly. It was very annoying that the one time he finally made the resolution to get some sleep, he was rudely interrupted.
"Something just came up" he continued, when he had the impression that John still wasn't entirely convinced. "I and Irene just needed to…clarify something."
"Okay?" John said, wondering what the hell Sherlock and Irene would need to clarify. (Then again, he viewed their relationship as fairly messed up, so he supposed that Sherlock could be providing a legitimate argument.)
His question was only greeted by silence, which, although certainly not unusual, irritated John. He wished Sherlock could actually reply sometimes.
"Well, I'll let you get on with it then" he said, and only heard as Sherlock mumbled something in return.
"When are you planning on coming back?" he asked suddenly, just before Sherlock pressed the 'end' button, although he knew it was in vain. Sherlock spent as much time with Irene as he liked, and only left when the two of them were about to rip each other's heads off.
Sure enough, Sherlock didn't have a direct answer to that, but only said that he would keep in touch. His voice sounded odd somehow, and John decided to blame it on the bad connection.
"Are you okay?" he asked again, simply needing to make sure that Sherlock wasn't about to get himself into some sort of big trouble (maybe Irene had gotten tired of having to behave, and had decided to misbehave and steal something or whatever, and Sherlock had to fly over to clear it up. It would certainly explain his vague replies, although John was fairly used to those.)
"It is 3 'o' clock in the morning" came the slightly annoyed reply. "I was actually trying to get some sleep."
"Ah" said John, sounding surprised. Sherlock and sleep were two words that simply sounded strange together. He supposed Irene must be some sort of wonder woman, if she had managed to make the famous detective sleep. (He briefly wondered what Irene and Sherlock could have done that was so extremely tiring, but suddenly decided that he would rather not think of that at all.) But the sleepiness certainly explained why Sherlock's voice sounded so off.
"Goodnight then", he added quickly.
Sherlock mumbled something in reply and pressed the end button, tossing the phone somewhere across the room. Before he knew it, his head dropped back on the pillow and he was once again fast asleep.
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Sherlock thought about John's phone call the next morning, and wondered how long he did actually plan to stay. He supposed that it was the traditional role of the father to support the mother and the child, but he really couldn't imagine himself as the smiling, doting, picturesque father.
If Irene wanted him to stay though, he would, at least for a while. Staying for longer periods of time was dangerous, because it meant that people like Lestrade and Mycroft would get suspicious. The fact that he kept disappearing on cases outside of England already appeared strange to them and he didn't want them to become inquisitive. It would put Irene at risk.
Even Mrs Hudson didn't know about Irene yet, though he had given John permission to tell her, should she ever care to ask what he was up to during one of his longer absences. John had glared at him, and Sherlock knew that his flatmate hated having to be the one to always tell other people news. Mycroft always used him as his own personal messenger, and now Sherlock had started doing it too.
But the crux of the matter was that Sherlock really didn't feel like telling anyone that he had finally submitted to these particular emotions. He didn't deny the fact, but he didn't like mentioning it. Besides, what words would he use? Girlfriend? Partner? Lover?
None of them described Irene, or the relationship the two of the shared.
He knew that Irene felt the same.
He avoided the subject of actually asking her whether or not she wanted him to remain with her for a longer period of time for a while, but he knew that eventually it needed to be breached.
He decided to do so when they were both immersed in a chess game in Irene's living room. Even though she was sitting in a rather unladylike position, due to her large stomach, Irene still managed to look elegant. Sherlock marvelled at how she managed to pull that look off.
He was currently losing the game (again; Irene was the only person he ever lost to. Although, in recent years, she had also been the only person to actually ever play against him.) He decided to ask her about the duration of his stay also as a hope of somehow distracting her from the game, if only for a sort time. (The time it took to get her king, to be exact.)
"How long do you want me to stay?" he asked, his voice a slight drawl and his eyes focused on the game. Irene breath caught slightly, realising the significance of his question, but she too kept her eyes firmly on the chess board.
Both of them were acting as if the topic wasn't important at all, although they both knew it was. But pretending was easier, for both of them. They were both aware that they put on this dismissive act, but that was precisely why they valued each other so much. Other people would ask this question with so much emotion in their tone and that made them uncomfortable. The situation was generally easier to handle or discuss if they both hid sentiment behind a mask of indifference.
Irene was quiet for a few seconds, staring intently at the game, until Sherlock finally looked up to face her. She used that advantage to take his queen.
"How long do you want to stay?" she asked vaguely, although she knew that that question was stupid. Sherlock was generally direct and straightforward to the point of extreme rudeness, but there was some very slight awkwardness in the air between them, something that made them act slightly differently than usual. Both were considerate of the other's feelings, and neither wanted to cause hurt and discomfort. Obviously, this made the situation a lot more delicate and a lot less practical, which irritated both of them slightly.
Sherlock shrugged in response to her question, and they both finished their game in silence, using concentration as an excuse to avoid the subject. At the end Irene sighed and leaned back in her chair and smiled slightly at Sherlock's sour expression. Even after all the time he had spent with her, and after all the chess games she had won, he still wasn't used to losing.
"Okay" she said suddenly, because she could feel the mounting tension in the air. "I know this is a delicate subject, but on second thought I would rather get it out of the way."
Sherlock smirked slightly, although he was grateful that she had made the first move. "Don't let me force you" he said, running a hand through his curls and leaning back in his own chair. Irene rolled her eyes.
"I'm just sparing you the indignity of discussing sentiment" she told him pointedly, and Sherlock shrugged his shoulders in resignation. She was right, of course.
"Obviously, the longer we stay cooped up in here together, the sooner we'll probably kill each other" she said and smirked. "To put it mildly."
"Very mild" Sherlock said sarcastically, although he couldn't help the small smile that escaped his lips.
Irene sighed. "Obviously, I want you to stay, at least for a bit. I could pretend that I don't want you around, but that would be lying, so…"
Sherlock said nothing, simply raising his eyebrows at her strange (though true) remark. Irene looked at him in mock irritation.
"You're supposed to say something nice about me now" she told him, lips curling up into another smile. In the end though, she decided to spare him the effort, and carried on, still smiling to herself. Sherlock observed her with amusement.
"But I don't want to force you into anything. I don't want to force myself into anything either. I have no idea how exactly to deal with a child, though in my case it's more instinctive, as you said.
Sherlock smirked slightly at her, but his expression turned serious. He stood up, walking over to her, and sitting down in her chair. It was a wide armchair, and the two of them could easily sit in it together, but Irene twisted her body until she was more or less sitting on his lap. Sherlock sighed. So much for wanting this conversation to remain light. Obviously, the second he felt uncomfortable, he couldn't make his escape, unless he wanted to throw Irene off. And he did not feel like doing that.
"I think" he said carefully, actually thinking his words through before he said them for once, "That it would be best if I stay for a few more days. If I stay longer Mycroft will start to get suspicious."
Irene nodded, knowing that there was a lot more Sherlock wanted (or rather needed) to say, but he wasn't entirely sure how to phrase it. Their relationship was complicated, and he wasn't sure how to say what needed saying without somehow mentioning the feelings he had for her. Both of them still made sure to stay away from the word love, even though they both knew that that was pretty much what summed up their relationship. But love was a petty word, it showed weakness and it was something that they still viewed as a disadvantage. It was unspoken, taboo, although there were times when both of them came close to almost saying it, before realising what they were doing. A child didn't help much in that respect.
So the two of them were silent, but Irene knew that if she ever needed Sherlock, then he would come. She wasn't sure how involved he would want to be with the baby once it was born, because he certainly wasn't the classic daddy type. She knew that he would certainly feel some emotional attachment, and was fairly certain that this would probably intensify over time.
She smiled at the mental image of Sherlock holding a toddler in his arms. It was so absurd that she could barely imagine it. Briefly she tried to imagine herself holding a child – a mental image which scared and shocked her almost as much as the former.
And yet, she couldn't fight the growing attachment she already felt with the baby. Sherlock was right; it was instinctive, especially in the mother.
She smiled at the (most likely) hypothetical reactions that Sherlock's friends would have. She doubted that John knew – Sherlock generally avoided telling his flatmate these things. When she had told Sherlock he had been caught completely off guard, so it was natural that he wouldn't talk about the subject with anyone else before he managed to figure it out and make sense of it in his own mind.
John would certainly be shocked, and Irene sincerely hoped she would be able to see his reaction.
Mycroft's reaction was also one she liked to imagine, although she knew that he of all people could never find out about this. He didn't scare her, but he was a threat, and she knew that there probably wasn't anyone else that Sherlock's older brother hated more.
She sighed to herself and closed her eyes, fully intending to stay in her current position, whether it bothered Sherlock or not.
Sherlock also stayed where he was, mostly because he couldn't really get up. A small part of him however, enjoyed the simple comfort of holding Irene, although, as his practical mind would see it, there was so much else he could be doing. He dismissed the thought however, and stayed in his position until his leg started to hurt.
Irene sensed his slight discomfort, and looked up at him, raising her eyebrows and appearing completely innocent.
"Uncomfortable, Mr Holmes?" she asked, her voice slightly flirtatious. Sherlock noticed the tired edge to it though.
"Whatever gave you that idea?" Sherlock asked, in a voice that made it perfectly obvious that he was uncomfortable. His leg had gone to sleep.
Irene bit her lip to stop a laugh escaping. He sounded almost like a sulky child. She decided to play along, and simply stayed in her position, until Sherlock started to get irritated.
Well he said irritated. He couldn't really find it in himself to be angry at her at the moment (or ever), so he simply rolled his eyes.
But she stayed put though, until he finally said exasperatedly: "Fine! Do you want me to carry you into the bedroom?"
Irene raised her eyebrows, and tried in vain to stifle a yawn.
"I suppose, being the pregnant one, I should be entitled to that".
Sherlock smiled slightly. The thought of picking Irene up and actually carrying her to bed did flash through his mind, but before irrationality and sentiment got the better of him, Irene got off the chair and went to the bathroom, saying that she was going to take a shower.
Sherlock sighed and flexed his leg, wincing as he felt the burning sensation slowly travel up from his ankle to his knee. In a way he was relieved that he hadn't given into this…domesticity.
A tiny part of him felt a small twinge of something almost like regret at not taking advantage of the situation, but he dismissed the thought as soon as it entered his head.
He heard the sounds of water coming from the bathroom and got up. He was relieved that he had discussed the issue of staying with Irene, and very grateful that she knew him well enough to not expect him to stay with her. She knew that he wasn't that type, and he couldn't imagine himself staying for nine months, attending ultra sound scans, and dealing with a hormonal Irene.
He shuddered at that thought.
For now however, he was perfectly content to stay for a while.
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Thank you very much for reading, and please review! I am addicted to reviews :)))))
